Chapter 1, Part 1

“Excuse me.”

“AAAAHHHH!! God DAMN it Harper, stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?”

“Stop sneaking up on me like that.  You fucking nearly gave me a heart attack popping up like that.”

“But… I just walked over here from the bookshelves like I always do.”

“Look, you creepy little freak, if I said you’re sneaking up on me, then you’re sneaking up on me.  Anyway, what do you want?”

“Can I get a glass of water?”

The girl behind the counter, dressed in a black miniskirt, black and white striped leggings, black ankle boots with 2 inch heels, red camisole with a fishnet top over it, and close cropped hair dyed a deep scarlet,  grudgingly pours a glass of water for the young man as he stands quietly at the bar.  She slams it onto the counter, and pushes it toward the young man with the black trench coat.  As the bartender turns away, the young man quietly slips some change onto the bar, and walks away, towards the back of the store, to the shelves that contain a myriad of mysterious books.  He returns to a rather tall stack of books that he left on the floor, sits down cross legged next to them, and begins to crack open the book that was on top of the pile.  He is immediately engrossed in what he is reading, seeming completely oblivious to the rest of the world around him.

“Hey Szina, don’t be so hard on him.  I know he’s a weird little guy, but he doesn’t bother anybody.  He just sits there and reads whenever he’s here,” says a girl by the computers located off to the side, furiously banging away on the keys, while never turning her head towards the bartender.

“Dammit Jez, would you stop defending him?  He’s creepy.  He’s always sitting there all night, reading all of the weird books, and talking to himself,” replies Szina.  “He keeps randomly telling someone to shut up, and I KNOW he’s not talking to me.  I think he’s got something wrong with his head.  I mean, he wears the same t-shirt and jeans all the time, and he’s in here until closing every day.  Doesn’t he sleep?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he changes his clothes.  The stains on his shirt aren’t in the same place all the time, and he doesn’t stink.  And you can just tell from looking at him that he doesn’t look like he sleeps much.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with circles that dark under their eyes,” says Jezibel, the entire time, never looking away from the computer monitor.

“Oh? You mean you’ve actually pulled your head away from that screen to take a look at him?’ says the bartender with a smirk, while she starts setting some clean glasses behind the bar.

Without looking up, the girl, who is wearing a black zip-up sweater with a red hoodie, a pair of black pants with chains made of small links hanging off from the belt loops, black army boots, and a pair of black, cats-eye frames, casually sweeps the left fringe of her hair away from her face with her left hand, while simultaneously flipping off the bartender with the same hand.  The only reaction this gets from the bartender is a laugh, and Szina goes back to prepping the bar for the guests later that night.

“You girls never cease to amuse me,” says a voice from the corner of the bar. 

From the corner of her eye, Szina gives the origin of the voice a once over.  Sitting at the edge of the bar, in his customary place, was a man about 5’8”, trim build, with shoulder-length black hair tied back into a ponytail.  Now that Szina thought about it, she doesn’t remember the last time she saw Jareth wearing anything different for quite some time either, although in his case, she felt it was more of a uniform.  He was sitting there again, in his pressed black shirt, pleated black slacks, black Doc Martens, a black satin vest, and a pair of black, wire-framed sunglasses with oval lenses.  He was sipping his tea again, as he does every day, with his customary bemused look on his face. 

“I’m glad you’re so easily amused, Jareth,” said Szina.  “So what is our happy-go-lucky hipster (this being said with a healthy amount of sarcasm) planning for the night, aside from sitting here being amused by the women in this fine bookstore?”

“I was thinking of possibly checking out the new place that opened up down the block.  It looks like quite a lively location, and I saw some particularly choice ladies that I might find some amusement with later.”

“Aw, we’re not enough entertainment for ya, Jareth?” chimes in Jezibel from her seat. 

“I’m afraid I could never compare to your little electronic companions over there, my dear Ms. Tsukiyama.”

“You’re damn right about that! HA! Got ya, you son of a bitch!”

“’Ey love, don’t you ever get tired of playin’ that game?  I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you awake an’ not on that bloody machine,” says Rufus, dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, brown worker boots, with dark brown dreadlocks a little past shoulder length, a tuft of hair on his chin, and wearing an apron.  After making this comment,  he returns to putting out fresh candles for all of the tables in the open area, and generally tidying up the place. 

“Nah, why would I ever need anything else?  I get everything I need from my precious little babies over here.  I mean, they don’t compare to the rig I have in my place, but they do the job.  As long as Dudley doesn’t screw them up, they’ll keep purring along.”

At that moment, the sound of a bell tinkling catches everyone’s attention.  Everyone (aside from Harper who’s still engrossed in his reading) turns toward the door and notices the customer who walks in.  A woman, about 5’5”, wearing white thigh high boots with 5 inch stiletto heels, a white patent leather miniskirt with a slit up the side, white patent leather jacket showing ample cleavage, white bumblebee sunglasses, and long, straight, blonde hair that falls to about mid-back, wearing a deep red lipstick with silver glitter on her face, saunters into the store.  She stops just inside the entryway, takes off her sunglasses, and proceeds to scan the inside of the store.  She settles on the bar, and walks right up to Szina. 

“Hi, welcome to Babylonia Books.  Can I get you something?” says Szina, trying her best to hide the disdain in her voice, but failing (purposely) to conceal the contempt on her face. 

Prologue

A persistent humming sound can be heard along the corridors of a basement located in lower Manhattan.  Following the sound leads to a bank of computers, with nearly a dozen monitors flashing indecipherable numbers, various diagnostic meters running amongst the chaos.  In front of this massive data processing machine stands a short man, garbed in a dusty lab coat, a pair of wrinkled khaki slacks, worn out brown loafers, and a stained purple polo shirt.  His hair is a wild black mass, with random streaks of gray.  A pair of large, heavy rimmed glasses sits on a large hooked nose, a nervous grimace making his features even uglier than they would otherwise be.  As he checks the readouts from the monitors, he keeps glancing over at an archway into the next room.  Long, thick cables run from the computers into the next room which is completely shrouded in darkness.  The walls are completely bare, and the only amenity for the technician is a single stool.  A stone stairway is the only way out of this area.  The only illumination is a single ceiling fixture, a pair of florescent lights affixed in the housing.  The crackling from these lights add the only differentiation to the noise generated by the computers.


Suddenly, the technician hears the tapping of heels on the stone steps.  He whips himself around, a look of anticipation mixed with apprehension appearing on his face.  When the figure descending the stairs emerges into the light, the look on the technician’s face noticeably droops.  He is not a happy man.  What had initially been a feeling of hopeful excitement instead turns into a moment of utter despair.  This was not the man he was hoping for.  He was not to be free again this night.  Instead, he had come.  Whenever he showed up, it was never good news.  It only meant more work, more time spent underground, more time spent away from the outside.  He hated seeing this man, but he was also deathly afraid of him.  He didn’t understand why, but he felt that he had to obey this man’s every whim, or he would face a fate worse than death. 


As the man steps into the light, the first thing that one would notice were the finely crafted Italian leather shoes.  A black sheen is reflected, despite the poor lighting.  As more of the man is revealed, he is shown to be wearing an impeccably tailored black suit, conveying a sense of power.  This is a man who gets what he wants, whenever he wants it, and anyone who meets him immediately knows that this man will not take no for an answer.  Today, he is wearing a pure white shirt with a crimson tie, tied with a Windsor knot.  A trimmed goatee and a full head of black hair, combed back, frames his chiseled features quite handsomely.  When he is in full view, he addresses the technician.


“Viktor!” exclaims the man in a deep voice.  “How are things going?  Have we made any progress?  I would hope that all the time you have spent down here has not been wasted.”  Along with this statement, the man gives the technician an almost bemused look, more with a hint of sarcasm than anything.  At these words, Viktor involuntarily cringes, but gathers his composure enough to respond.


“I am sorry sir, but I am not entirely sure what there is to be done,” Viktor replies with a Czech accent that has not changed much due to little contact with any English speaking people.  “I have been running test after test, and cannot determine the right procedure to get the results that you want, sir.  It does not seem that any modern science will help you, sir.” 


The man glares at Viktor for a moment, then his features soften for a moment before his mouth settles into a smirk.  “Of course not Viktor!  I never expected it to.  I know what has to be done, but I have been waiting for the right time.  However, I thought why not give it a try?  I am always interested in trying new things, Viktor.  If we could have stumbled onto another solution, I would not have turned it down, but at the very least, we know of one less way that it will work.” 


At this, Viktor visibly relaxes, until the man grabs him by the shoulder and brings him up next to him in a side hug, and uncomfortably strong side hug.  “Of course, the time still isn’t right, so we will have many more attempts to make, won’t we Viktor?” says the man in a low voice.  The little man tenses up, and trying not to look into the eyes of the imposing man, he manages to squeak out, “Of course, sir.  You are indeed correct, sir.” 


The man in the black suit suddenly lets go, turns around, and starts heading back up the staircase.  As he is walking away, Viktor clears his throat loudly enough to catch the attention of the man in black, and timidly says, “But sir, I was hoping to ask about my replacement…” 


The man turns around, and says, “Ah yes.  You have been down here for quite some time, haven’t you Viktor?  Hmmm… well, we will have to see what we can do about that.  I guess we will have to get someone to relieve you of your station sometime this month, won’t we?” 


“But sir, you said that last month, and still there has been no one…”


“Ah ah Viktor, none of that now.  We will get you a replacement when the time is right.”  As he says this, he closes the distance between the two men at an unnatural speed, and stopping mere inches away from the smaller man, standing face to face, he says in a voice that is simultaneously sinister and inhuman, “and I am the man who determines when the time is right.”  Viktor is suddenly hit with a wave of fear and panic, and cowers back.  “Yes sir…” 


Standing up straight again, and returning to his normal voice, the man in black says, “Good, I am  glad that we have an understanding, Viktor.  I would hate to have any unpleasantness occur between us.  Well then, I am on my way out.  I will return for another status update at some point.  Don’t let me down Viktor, I know I can count on you to come up with some novel approach.” 


With that, the man walks back up the stairs, and Viktor is left standing there, looking quite miserable at the prospect of yet more time underground, alone.

How To Begin?

This will be a place for a very specific project.  It’s the culmination of over 3 years of time spent with a great group of friends, rolling dice, sitting in various locations, ordering out, and using that part of my brain involving imagination more than I’ve used it ever in my life.  I always felt the story had to be written down to be shared in the future, and after a previous aborted attempt, I think I want to try again.  As with my other blog, I won’t know how much I plan to update, but I do think I’ll stick with it much more than before.  Criticism is always appreciated (as long as it’s constructive) but I just feel like this has to be kept somewhere.  Hope you enjoy!